From the air, in the dark 5:00 morning, Dublin is nothing more than a sheet of lights floating on water, glowing like a Christmas tree. I press my face to the glass, feeling the cold seep onto my forehead. The first time I saw Dublin, the sun was rising over the Irish Sea. The water was glossy and sugary pink, a confection for…

In Irish mythology, a "thin place" was a divider between the physical, tangible world and the "otherworld" of dreams, the afterlife, and other unseen but very real dimensions hiding behind the veil of reality. Thin places could be actual places or they could be seasons of change. The night of Samhain (sow-in), the Celtic…

It's not easy to follow your passion. It's a terrifying thing to take that step, to put yourself out there, to make yourself vulnerable. But it's liberating too.

For my whole life, my first love has been Ireland- her history, her culture. I've traveled there and filled my bookshelves with books that take me back to a place I…

I wrote this poem after months of studying Yeats' work and life for my undergrad thesis. One night, I found a BBC recording of him reading "The Lake Isle of Innisfree." I finally got to hear the voice I had been reading for so long and the moment took my breath away. This poem resulted from that experience.…